


The House on Tanglewood Way

by unholyseraphs (oncharredwings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Ghost!Castiel, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, M/M, Sad, past mcd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncharredwings/pseuds/unholyseraphs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something strange about the old Victorian on Tanglewood Way. It wasn’t because the old house hadn’t had a visitor in fifteen years or an occupant in twenty. It wasn’t because the windows were filthy and the paint was so faded no one was quite sure the original color of the house used to be. It wasn’t because the lawn remained manicured and flowers still grew in the soil beds out front, even though nobody ever saw anyone mowing or gardening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House on Tanglewood Way

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DestielCon fanfic contest. This won the audience favorite category :)

There was something strange about the old Victorian on Tanglewood Way. It wasn’t because the old house hadn’t had a visitor in fifteen years or an occupant in twenty. It wasn’t because the windows were filthy and the paint was so faded no one was quite sure the original color of the house used to be. It wasn’t because the lawn remained manicured and flowers still grew in the soil beds out front, even though nobody ever saw anyone mowing or gardening. 

 

1700 Tanglewood Way had an aura of sadness. The neighborhood speculated that someone had died there, maybe even been murdered, but no one could be certain. The house had never had a _for sale_ sign placed on its green lawn, so _someone_ still owned it, even though no one knew who. It wasn’t until a man with lively green eyes and a dusty leather jacket arrived to take up residence in the house that anyone felt the sadness ebb away. It was as if the house had been waiting for just this man to arrive so it could feel alive after twenty years. 

 

The man, who introduced himself around town as Dean Winchester, came and went in the house as if it were normal. No one asked him why he had moved in or where he’d come from. Everyone _wanted_ to, of course, but the neighbors figured they’d find out eventually. That was how things tended to work in their small town anyway. It was just nice knowing the house had an occupant and was not being haunted by ghosts. 

 

***

 

“You know, I think it’s funny that everyone around here seems to think this place is _haunted_ ,” Dean said to the empty room with a smirk, as he continued to slice up some tomatoes to throw into his spaghetti sauce. “I wonder why they’d think that.” 

 

“That isn’t _funny_ , Dean,” came Castiel’s irritated voice. 

 

“Oh, c’mon Cas, it’s a _little_ funny,” Dean replied with a grin. “Now come on, I made your favorite.” 

 

Castiel slowly appeared, his eyes narrowed in his usual way. “You made spaghetti again?” he asked as his eyes began to widen as he saw the plate being filled with noodles and sauce. “That’s the sixth time in two weeks.” 

 

“Well,” Dean said slowly. “I want to keep you happy. I owe you, after all.” Dean picked up the plates and carried them over to the table, Castiel following on his heels. Once the dish was set down, Dean sat on his end of the long oak table, while Castiel sat down slowly at his. 

 

As Dean dug into his meal, Castiel stared at his own with forlorn familiarity. “Dean,” he sighed, “I cannot stay here forever.” 

 

There was a lull in the meal as Dean picked at his meatballs, suddenly seeming to be aware of their odd situation. “You said you could cling here, stay here… You _said_ you could. That this was the place.” 

 

“I thought it was,” Castiel muttered. “I did die here, after all.” 

 

Another lull and the silence seemed to stretch on forever, until Dean finally looked up from his meal to meet the eyes of his best friend and love of his life. Green eyes shimmered in the dull chandelier light. “I can’t let you go,” Dean whispered. “Not now… Not when things were feeling normal again-.” 

 

“Dean, I’m dead,” Castiel whispered. “I’ve been dead for twenty years. You’ve kept me bound here… But I’m tired and I can’t hold onto this place.” 

 

“Then, you can go back to the coat-.” 

 

“ _No_.” Castiel stared at Dean sternly or as sternly as a ghost could. “Dean, you have to let me go.” 

 

Dean gulped. “What if I’m not ready?” 

 

“You’ve been saying that since the day I died… Dean, I’m dead. I’m still eighteen and you’re thirty-eight. In twenty years you haven’t let me go.” Castiel felt the sadness begin to pulse out of him and fill the entire house with sorrow. “You should have been married, had children, lived your _life_. Not clung to what you used to have with me.” 

 

“Cas, I _love_ you,” Dean insisted weakly. 

 

“Loved me.” 

 

“No, no I _love_ you-.” 

 

“There is _nothing_ to love, now.” Castiel looked around the old house where he’d fallen down the stairs twenty years ago and died. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

 

“I promised I’d stay with you… I _promised_.” 

 

“Dean, you’re not dead!” Castiel screamed as the house rumbled in his anger. “I want you to live your life, do that for me. Please, let me go.” 

 

Dean gulped again and ran a hand over his face, wiping away unshed tears. “Okay,” Dean whispered. 

 

***

Dean Winchester left almost as soon as he’d arrived on Tanglewood Way. The house returned to being empty and the town continued to whisper as to what had transpired within its walls. The sadness was gone for good, however. 

 

Two weeks after Dean’s arrival, a _for sale_ sign appeared on the well manicured lawn. 


End file.
